


Burn A Hole Right Through My Heart

by vertigocave



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: BPD, Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, M/M, Trans Character, ftm!bert, past toxic relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertigocave/pseuds/vertigocave
Summary: Gerard, a nineteen year old with already way too many issues, still feels affected by a toxic relationship he had had when he was fifteen. After breaking up with his former best friend and girlfriend Lindsey, he meets Bert, the first person who really understands what he’s going through.





	1. i think i might just trust you

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this started out as a vent but I started adding more things so I’m posting the chapters as I fix them woohoo. Both Bert and Gerard have BPD in this story cause I can do what I want.

It wasn’t that Lindsey was a bad girlfriend. She was all a person could ask for in a partner, and Gerard knew that. He also knew that the problem was in himself, or, specifically, in his memories.

She had remained silent when he broke up with her in that November afternoon, right after they had tried making out and failed miserably. Then, rightfully so, she had asked why they couldn’t make it work out. Gerard couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was getting so upset over something that had happened so many years ago, that had been blurry for so long, that wasn’t even that clear in his memory.

 

His first relationship wasn’t that toxic. Well, maybe she was controlling and manipulative. Yeah, it was toxic. But she was also caring. She always texted him nice things and said that she loved him and asked him how he felt. She didn’t know she was doing that much harm. Or maybe she did. Gerard remembered her telling him that she knew she was bad for him but she was too selfish to let him go, so maybe it was a bad relationship after all. 

Her image kept shifting in his mind, she kept flipping from being an innocent angel who loved him like nobody else would ever again to a monster who had dated a fifteen year old boy when she was eighteen and ruined him forever. He just couldn’t find a way to make her sweet side fit with her toxic side in the same picture, but he also didn’t seem to be able to choose one. He loved her but she hurt him but he loved her. But she hurt him.

 

He couldn’t just tell Lindsey that he felt sick whenever he was in a romantic situation with a woman. She would’ve probably slapped him or told him to get over it. Realistically, she would have never done that, but Gerard couldn’t convince himself of this fact. When you’re paranoid about something, and Gerard got paranoid about a lot of things, trying to convince yourself that none of the worst imaginable outcomes are likely to happen is like trying to convince yourself that the sun is blue. Sure, you can tell yourself that there’s a blueberry hanging up in the sky, but deep down you know that it’s yellow or orange, depending on the time of day. Gerard also made sure that his metaphors were protected against smartasses.

 

A week after he had left Lindsey with no answer, he found himself in a public park with a Red Bull in his hand. He would’ve preferred a coffee, but he hadn’t had the energy to make himself one that morning.

He noticed a guy with long, dark hair looking at him from a bench across the gravel-covered path. He could smell the stench of weed all the way from there.

The guy got up and Gerard’s heart skipped a beat. What if he wanted to talk to him? He would’ve seen right through him. He would’ve noticed everything that was off about Gerard and he would’ve started a fight with him and Gerard would’ve fucking died.

 

“Hey, man” the guy said.

 

Gerard forced himself to look up and found the guy way closer to him than he was when he had gotten up. That was how movement worked, apparently, but Gerard wasn’t very good at physics, so he wasn’t completely sure about that.

 

“Can I get the last sip of that when you’re done?” the guy asked him, before Gerard could speak. To be fair, he had probably kept him waiting for way longer than the rules of politeness allowed, but he was having a pretty rough week, so getting lost in his thoughts was the least concerning thing that could’ve happened.

 

“You can have a sip now if you want” he answered hurriedly, almost desperate to not tick off the guy.

 

The guy let out a loud laugh. “You trust a stranger not to give you herpes? That’s very kind. And kind of dumb. What’s your name?”

He spoke almost like his words didn’t get processed by his brain before leaving his mouth, which reminded Gerard of himself. Well, not himself all the time, mostly himself when his mood was way better than that.

 

“I’m Gerard.”

 

“Cool name. I’m Bert. I’ve seen you around before, right? Where’s your girlfriend?”

 

Gerard felt a deep pit in his stomach. Lindsey. He had been such an asshole to her, leading her on and then dumping her for no reason. She probably hated him by now. He had lost his best friend. His best friend, the one he would give his life for, hated him. She hated him so much she wanted him dead. She was over him already. Or maybe she wasn’t, she was heartbroken and drinking in her bedroom all alone. Nah, Gerard wasn’t that important.

 

“Gerard, are you okay?”

 

Great, he had gotten lost in his thoughts again and this guy probably thought he was a weirdo.

“Yeah, sorry. She’s not my girlfriend. I.. I don’t date girls.”

Fuck, why did he tell him that? What if that vibe he felt from him was just wishful thinking? What if he was a raging homophobe and-

 

“Oh, you’re gay? Cool. I’m bi.”

 

Gerard realized that he had been holding his breath and let it out with great relief.

“Yeah, I’m also bi. I just don’t date girls. It’s complicated.”

 

“Oh.”

The guy - Bert - seemed both curious and concerned.

“Bad experience?”

 

“Yeah.”

Gerard let out one of those tired laughs that hold no joy in them.

 

“‘M sorry. How old are you, by the way?”

 

“I turned nineteen this year.”

 

“I’m eighteen.”

 

He looked weird for an eighteen year old. Gerard told himself that he was just a late bloomer, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t accidentally getting a crush on some kid who lied about his age. Fuck, was he getting a crush already? 

“Really?” he asked. “You look younger than that.”

 

“Fuck off” Bert spat out, and Gerard felt like he couldn’t blame him.

“I can give you my ID if you want.”

 

“Why not.”

 

Bert sat besides him and pulled out a driver’s license. His fingers covered most of it, but it was definitely him in the picture, and the date of his birth was indeed over eighteen years earlier.

“Yeah, I’m legal, you won’t get arrested if your dick ends up in my ass.”

 

Gerard choked on his spit. “My what?”

 

“Oh, you’re a bottom?” Bert asked, as if the question was which brand of cereals he ate in the morning or what high school he went to.

 

“I don’t wanna have sex with you, I just met you. Jesus.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna tell you. It was a joke to find out your intentions” he explained in a mockingly pretentious tone.

He was smart. Gerard told him that and he laughed.

 

“So, do you wanna hang out sometime or do I just get my Red Bull and leave?”

 

Gerard almost choked again. A random cute guy asking him out was not what he had envisioned when he had left the house that morning.

 

“Yeah, do you want my number?”

 

“I don’t have a cellphone.”

 

Gerard looked at him in disbelief. No cellphone? What year was that, 1995? 

Bert laughed again.

 

“I’m just fucking with you. I have a cellphone, but if you call me I’m gonna put you on speaker ‘cause, you know, radiations and stuff, so get ready for a lot of echo” he warned him as he pulled out a very pink phone from his pocket.

“I used to hate girly stuff like this but I kinda got over it, y’know?”

 

Gerard secretly stored that information in his brain as he took the device from Bert’s gloved hand and put his number in the contacts.

“Send me a message so I can save your number.”

 

Bert nodded and exactly ten seconds later Gerard got a text from what was presumably Bert’s number which only contained the words “Gee Bees”.

 

“It’s a play on your name” Bert explained immediately. “‘Cause your name is Gerard, so Gee, and the Bee Gees, you know. God, that sounds stupid now.”

 

“It was pretty funny actually” Gerard reassured him. “My brother calls me that too.”

 

“Gee Bees?”

 

“Just Gee.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They sat together in an awkward silence before Bert got up and said he had to leave, so Gerard got up too and they waved each other a quick bye before they started walking in opposite directions. Gerard had a very good feeling about this.


	2. i dreamed that i was coming home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR  
> -hospitals  
> -mentions of prescription drug abuse  
> Also if you tell me that the psychiatrist part reminds you of asotm I will [redacted] cause this is all inspired by personal experience (unlike someone else’s story) and I personally got prescribed and take all of those things are we clear? good.

For their first date they met at a pizzeria near Bert’s house. It was extremely cheap, but it tasted good, so it was very popular amongst teenagers.

Gerard kept cutting his slice in small bites, careful to avoid making himself look gross in front of Bert, and Bert jerked his head up and looked at Gerard with extreme interest whenever he opened his mouth, even if it was just to comment on how good the pizza tasted or something equally trivial.

 

As soon as Gerard had finished eating, Bert took a deep breath as if he had something to confess. Gerard tried to stop his mind from racing during the seemingly infinite milliseconds that separated his breath and his words.

“I’m trans.”

 

That could’ve been way worse. Gerard was almost disappointed that it was just that. Of course, for Bert it was probably a very big deal, but it didn’t really change a lot for him. “Okay.”

 

Bert blinked in confusion. “That’s it? No intrusive questions? No screaming at me for deceiving you?”

 

“Nah. I went on a date with a dude and I’m still on a date with a dude. That’s pretty much it.”

 

“Oh.”

Bert seemed to relax a little bit. “You’re cool, man.”

 

Gerard ignored the compliment purely out of shyness. “If you’re telling me that it means that you didn’t change your mind, right?”

 

“Yeah, if that’s not a dealbreaker to you. I can still top if you want, by the way.”

 

Gerard’s eyes widened in shock. “We can talk about that later” he said quickly, trying to avoid blushing.

 

The rest of the date was spent at Bert’s apartment that he shared with a friend of his named Quinn. They watched a movie and Bert slid his arm over Gerard’s shoulder, who sighed happily at the warm feeling that had appeared in his guts. He felt happy.

 

After the movie was over, Gerard took out his phone to see what time it was. Fuck. It was so fucking late. 

“I have to go” he said, getting up abruptly.

 

Bert looked at him with a confused look on his face.

 

“I have a doctor’s appointment” Gerard explained.

 

“Really? Is it something bad?”

 

_ Don’t overshare don’t overshare. _

“Just my therapist. Routine stuff.”

 

Bert seemed content with the explanation, so he just got up and walked over to where Gerard stood, hugging him tightly.

Gerard couldn’t help but smile. He felt so safe. He almost didn’t want to leave Bert and Quinn’s house. He could’ve wrapped himself in a fuzzy blanket with Bert and lived on their couch forever. Sure, he hadn’t even met Quinn, but if he lived with Bert he couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Bert kissed him on the cheek, causing him to smile even wider. 

 

“Good luck” Bert said as he stroked the older boy’s cheek with his thumb.

 

Gerard smiled and he leaned in for a kiss, which was quickly returned by Bert.

Before they could do anything else, though, Gerard caught a glimpse of the cheap clock on the living room wall.

“Shit. I really gotta go. I’ll call you or text you later, I promise.”

 

“Don’t worry” Bert smiled.

 

Gerard ran out of the corridor as they waved each other a quick bye, again.

 

The ride on the bus was long and annoying, and Gerard almost got lost on the way to his destination, which wasn’t his usual therapist as he’d told Bert, but a new psychiatrist. His old psychologist had told him he couldn’t do anything more for him, so he had passed him over to a psychiatrist, who had eventually told him he would’ve had to go to the hospital and take some very specific tests.

The first meeting had been with a doctor who had been twenty minutes late. She had acted very cold and distant, probably to find out if he was ‘lying for attention’ and she had eventually signed some papers which allowed him to see the new psychiatrists.

The person who welcomed him in the office was the psych herself, Dr Laura Wallace. He liked her. She had a motherly vibe to her. 

He waited in silence as she read the notes the previous psychiatrist, whose name Gerard had already forgotten, had sent her. 

Eventually, she broke the silence.

“I see that you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

 

Gerard nodded.

 

“And that you feel like.. a presence in the room with you.”

 

Gerard nodded again. “It’s like someone is standing there, waiting to kill me. In the morning it seems stupid, but in the night it makes sense.”

 

“Who’s standing there, Gerard?”

 

The boy shrugged. “A demon. A serial killer. Sometimes it has sharp teeth.”

 

Dr Wallace nodded as she scribbled something on a piece of paper.

“And what do you do when you feel this presence?”

 

“I tell myself that it’s not really there. But deep down I know it is. So I keep my cellphone near my bed so I can call for help.”

He paused for a few seconds. “Sometimes I’m so scared I can’t move. If I move they’ll see me.”

That sounded stupid. How could he become so dumb as soon as the sun went down? Stupid stupid stupid.

 

The doctor decided to change the subject. “What about your anxiety attacks? When do they happen?”

 

“Anywhere. When I’m at home. When I’m in class. They’ve been happening for years now. Sometimes I hyperventilate so hard I can’t feel my fingers.”

 

Dr Wallace nodded and scribbled again.

 

“Do you smoke marijuana often?”

 

Shit. He had mentioned that to the previous psych. He hadn’t mentioned the alcohol, though, and he felt like that could’ve stayed a secret for a while.

“Not really. Mostly with my friends. Two times a week max.”

 

“You know that doesn’t help with your paranoia and with your episodes, right?”

 

Of course he fucking knew that. 

He nodded.

 

The doctor nodded back and glued her eyes to the computer screen again.

“It says here that you feel like people don’t like you.”

 

“Duh.”

 

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m fundamentally unlikeable. I have made one friend in preschool, then none until high school, but they got tired of me after like a year and stopped talking to me. Now I only hang out with this stoner named Frank, my brother’s friends if I’m lucky, and not even my childhood friend ‘cause I broke her heart and hurt her like I always fucking do. So everyone leaves me eventually and that’s just the way it is. I don’t meet many new people ‘cause I don’t want the pain of another abandonment.”

He wasn’t crying. He only cried when thought about the good times with the people who were no longer in his life, which sounded sappy, but was the truth. He had stopped crying because of real life events, movies, and songs about two years earlier. 

It was like he had ran out of tears. Sometimes he wanted to cry, let it out, he wanted his face to become a red, puffy, disgusting mess of tears and mucus and saliva as he cried and screamed and gasped for air, almost as if he was drowning in his desperation.

Whenever he would get sad now, however, he would just feel his head going numb and his guts being twisted around. Then, he would feel numb. A void in his body, draining him of all the energy he had.

It was like that time he had been depressed for months and felt suicidal for the first time, when he had made plans and everything and nobody had given a shit anyway, but it lasted way less. He would still get suicidal when the wave of sadness hit him, but he didn’t want to talk about it. She already knew.

 

“Would you like to describe these sensations you have mentioned to my colleague? The ones where things feel ‘fake’?”

 

Gerard shifted in his seat. It was one of those chairs that bounce a little ‘cause they have two legs and they are shaped like an S, which seemed to be very popular lately.

“Sometimes I feel like everything is fake. Like it’s fabricated, you know? Props and stuff. Like it’s a movie set but I’m not being watched, I’m just a character and everyone is a character and I’m a character and I have a script but I’m the only one who doesn’t have an actor.”

 

“What about when you feel disconnected from the world?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Basically I’m here,” he gestured towards himself. “The rest of the world is there,” he waved his arms around with the palms out. “There’s like a barrier. I can’t really interact. You know?”

 

“Derealization.”

 

“I guess.”

 

They both sat in silence until Dr Wallace asked him if he had anything else to say and he shook his head.

“Okay, now listen,” she said.

“I’m gonna prescribe you some things for your insomnia and anxiety. Then, you will see my colleague in this hospital, hopefully before Christmas, and he will make you take some tests. Questionnaires” she added, after Gerard made a confused face.

“One more thing.”

 

Gerard looked at her, impatiently.

 

“Don’t take drugs or alcohol, at least during the next month. We have to see whether the medication I gave you will work properly or if we have to change the dosage.”

 

“Sure” he smiled as he took the piece of paper she had slid to his side of the desk.

Ativan. Some paroxetine drops. Xanax.

He tried not to chuckle at the last one.

He had gone through so much trouble buying it from friends of friends of friends until Lindsey had somehow cut off all of his connections right before he had started using it regularly.

Lindsey was basically a saint.

 

“I wrote my email address at the bottom. Keep me updated, okay?”

 

Gerard nodded.

 

“Alright, we’re done here” she said, in a somewhat comforting way. “I’ll tell you when the next appointment is.”

 

They exchanged a formal goodbye, which sounded pretty awkward to Gerard, and the boy left the room.

As soon as he got out of the building, he looked at his phone and found a message from Bert asking “how did it go??”

 

He smiled as he quickly typed an answer reassuring him and telling him that everything was okay.

After picking up the medication he had just gotten prescribed, he took a deep breath and called Lindsey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! As always, kudos and comments are extremely appreciated, even if it’s just you screaming in the comment lol


	3. just not too close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord server for bandom writers and readers and I know there’s probably some out there already but I haven’t found any so like join if you want https://discord.gg/wEh8fhJ

The moments between when he tapped on Lindsey’s contact name and when she answered felt interminable. What if she hated him so much that she would’ve never talked to him again? What if she felt like throwing sixteen years of friendship into the toilet? He surely had had no problem leading her on. Well, he had tried, but it wasn’t the first time that he had gotten stuck right where the fun started.

How could he have thought that with his childhood friend it would’ve been different? 

 

This  _ adventure _ they’d had was just an experiment gone wrong, everything would’ve gone back to normal, with her calling him ‘bro’ and him calling her ‘sis’, even though it sounded pretty awkward.

All the dudes in the stoners’ circle would call each other ‘dude’ and ‘bro’, but the few girls would often get called ‘dude’ as well. 

Gerard had though it was weird when she had stopped calling him ‘bro’ a month earlier, but he had stopped with his equivalent of the word as well without asking many questions. They would also call each other ‘darling’ and ‘babe’ from time to time, but that was just a mlm/wlw thing, at least from his point of view.

When Lindsey had asked him to be his boyfriend, he had agreed both because he didn’t want to upset her and because he genuinely wanted to try dating a girl again.

Of course, he had fucked everything up again, as he seemed to do all the time.

Just thinking about it brought him back to his first therapist, the one right after the first psychologist. He was the first person he’d ever told about his abandonment issues. 

His name was Doctor Eric Richards and he was nice and, like most people with well-groomed white hair, if he had been a landscape, he would’ve been described as picturesque. His study had an antique bookcase filled with tons of non-fiction books, presumably psychiatry ones. On his desk there were a plastic lamp shaped like a brain, a regular lamp, and a mug with Jack Skellington on it. He had stared at the mug for most of their hours together.

 

“Hello?”

Lindsey’s voice brought him back from his thoughts.

 

“Hi, Lynz.”

 

He heard her sigh. “Are you finally gonna tell me what’s up?”

 

“We can’t date. You know why. I’m sorry.”

 

He felt some background noise coming from wherever Lynz was. She was probably hanging out with her friends.

 

“I still want to be your friend. I care way too much about you to ruin all of this. I love you as much as I can love a friend.”

 

She sighed. “I’m not even mad at you. I knew it was gonna happen. I’m sorry I tried, I guess.”

 

“It’s not your fault! I swear!”

 

“Yes, I know.”

Lindsey could be a real smartass sometimes.

 

“Can we meet sometime soon at least? I have a lot of things to tell you.”

 

“If you’re gonna describe your cat’s puke again, I pass.”

 

“I will  _ not _ !”

 

Lindsey laughed. Her laugh was stupidly pretty, it was almost boring. Gerard’s laugh was awkward and giggly, while hers was clear and it sounded like it was straight from a movie.

“I’m glad you called, though.”

 

Gerard didn’t know what to say. You’re welcome? It’s not like it was a favor he had done for her. He knew that both of them still wanted to be friends with each other.

 

“I’m glad I’m not like Adam to you.”

 

Fuck. Adam. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

 

“Yes, I know, you were lonely and he liked you” she sounded almost bored, probably because she’d heard that exact sentence so many times.

 

“I just wanted to have some fun, okay? I told him to not expect anything big.”

 

“You fucked a guy who was head over heels for you and you didn’t think he would start, I don’t know, thinking you liked him too?”

Lindsey sounded incredulous.

 

Gerard kicked the sidewalk in frustration. He felt so guilty. He hated being so fucking impulsive and always hurting people because of it. Some people he would have ‘things’ with would get over it, like Lindsey, or Frank, but others, like Adam, would get extremely upset about it.

 

Gerard hated himself for breaking Adam’s heart, but he told himself that it was  _ one _ afternoon.  _ One _ time. He had told him that there were no feelings and that he liked him as a friend, and that it was just for fun. 

Apparently, though, sucking on a person’s neck and dick for three hours straight, without even including the part where you let them fuck you, tends to make them think you’re into them, especially if said person is Adam Lazzara, local hopeless romantic.

He could definitely say that banging Adam was in his top 10 of impulsive things he regretted doing.

 

“Yeah, I’m a slut and I ruined his life, is that what you want me to say?” Gerard almost screamed.

 

“No, I just wanted to remind you that it’s a thing you do pretty often. Does your therapist know about it?”

 

“Yeah, and for your information, I’m gonna have to take tests soon.”

 

Lindsey hesitated for a few seconds. “Okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He walked in silence towards his parents’ house. He was still on the phone, but neither of them was saying a word. He didn’t feel like hanging up, though.

Eventually, he reached his destination and said bye to Lindsey before hanging up.

 

“I’m home” he announced as he walked in.

 

The only person in the room was his little brother, Mikey, a sixteen year old who seemed way too scrawny and awkward to be such an extrovert.

“Hey, Gee” he said, without looking up from his phone. “Sorry, guys, it’s just my brother.”

 

“Are you Skyping with your friends?”

 

Mikey looked at him with an amused expression on his face. “Dude, nobody uses Skype. I’m using Discord.”

 

“That’s good. If your friends use Discord, they’re probably fun to be around.”

 

“You guys heard this?” Mikey said to his friends. “Even my brother knows.”

 

“Don’t say that like I’m an old man! I’m not that old! I’m sure someone over there is my age!”

 

“Yes, but they’re my friends first and it’s not as weird to think that we belong to the same generation.”

 

“You’re just mad ‘cause mom asks me to explain your memes.”

 

Mikey rolled his eyes and fixed his glasses on his nose. “I think my brother has a bad case of ligma.”

 

“Did they tell you that at saw con?”

 

They stared at each other like two lions fighting for dominance in a pride, not breaking eye contact. Gerard could hear the entertained screams of Mikey’s friends from his headphones and he wondered how the hell he hadn’t suffered permanent ear damage already. Eventually, Gerard laughed and told his brother to fuck off in an affectionate way, then he crossed the hallway full of his mother’s creepy dolls and went into his bedroom. 

 

He spent the whole afternoon lazily reading comic books he already knew by heart and texting his friends, mostly Bert, but also this guy named Ray he’d met through Mikey. 

He only left his room to go have dinner with his family, which was quick and without much talking, and as soon as he was done he sprinted towards his room to get back to Bert. 

What he found, though, was a wall of text from the younger boy, sent mere minutes earlier. The message started with ‘I FUCKING HATE HIM’ and ended with ‘I’m fucking leaving’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is gonna be full of THINGS! intrusive thoughts! fighting with your parents! romance! trees! I am such a mess of a man oh my god


	4. the taste of ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this was inspired by real life which was inspired by the taste of ink so like.. this is basically inspired by the taste of ink. also it’s Bert’s POV but it’s still in third person cause otherwise I would feel like an animal  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> -misgendering  
> -thoughts of suicide

As soon as Gerard left, Quinn emerged from his room and got ahold of the remote, zapping through the channels.

“You know you can just choose one, right?” Bert joked, only mildly annoyed.

“The thing is, they all suck.” He stopped changing the channels to look at his roommate with a half smile on his face.

“Dude, did you really have to stop on Harry Potter? What year is it?”

“I didn’t choose it! You distracted me!” Quinn protested. “And it’s still a solid series.”

Bert shrugged. “I guess everyone just talks about it too much, you know. Like it’s the fucking Bible. No,  _ Ashley _ , I don’t know what my patronum is and I don’t care! Read another book!”

“I think the word is patronus, dude. It’s a subject.”

Bert looked at him and tilted his head.

“Latin.”

“Do I  _ look _ like I speak Latin?”

Quinn rolled his eyes and glued them back to the screen.

“Which one is it anyway?” Bert asked, leaning with his elbows on the back of the couch.

“The third one. You see that? The creature that turns into your worst fear or whatever? It’s in the third one.”

_ Your worst fear. _ Those words echoed into Bert’s mind for an uncomfortably long moment.

“Cool. I’m going to my room.”

“Put on something decent, maybe. Your parents are coming over, remember?”

Fuck. His parents. He absolutely did not remember. “Yeah, okay.”

He slipped into his room and locked the door. His worst fear. His worst fear. His head felt like it was spinning. Images of death and pain made their way into his mind like maggots digging into rotting flesh.

Quinn lying on the floor, completely still. His pose unnatural. His mouth half-open. 

He shook his head, trying to get rid of that thought. Quinn was in the other room, and he was safe.

What about Jepha? Was Jepha okay? He clawed at his face, trying to redirect his mind from going there, from showing him more terrible images.

What about Gerard? What would Gerard look like as a corpse? His beautiful hazel eyes blurred and opaque, his skin cold to the touch.

He slapped himself. He had to stop thinking about those things. He put on a white button-up shirt that was way too big for him and laughed at how awkwardly it fit. He had borrowed it from Quinn’s room because he didn’t have any of his own, which only increased the awkwardness of the situation. His parents were gonna hate it anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

He rolled up the sleeves and jumped on the bed, grabbing his phone. 

He had a really good time texting Gerard until his parents arrived.

He heard the doorbell ring and he heard Quinn greeting them and them greeting him. They liked Quinn. Sure, maybe his hair was long and bleached and he wasn’t very religious, but they had grown to appreciate how normal he was compared to Bert, at least from their point of view.

They still used his deadname when they talked to or about him. He stopped listening whenever that happened, so they would usually not refer to him as anything, just ‘you’. Bert was ‘you’ to his parents, and he was pretty okay with it. He had invited them to his house just so they’d let him see his sisters and his brother once in a while anyway. It was all about maintaining a very delicate precarious balance of a relationship.

He walked into the living room trying to look happy to see them.

“How’s my  _ kid _ ?” his mother said enthusiastically, squeezing him into a tight hug. They didn’t hate him, they hated what he was. It was a complicated concept.

His father was always too awkward and somewhat disappointed to greet him, limiting himself to shaking his son’s hand coldly.

“I see that you let your hair grow a little bit! Have you changed your mind?” his mother looked at him with her eyes full of selfish hope.

Bert touched the tip of his hair, which now reached his shoulders. He didn’t know how to explain to her that he just didn’t care enough to cut it and he hoped the beard he was slowly growing would soon make up for it, but he decided it wasn’t worth it, so he didn’t answer, trying to bury his sudden anger deep down in his intestines.

For the whole dinner he tried to impress them just enough that they wouldn’t decide that he was a bad influence for his siblings, and Quinn helped greatly with it, telling them about how good of a roommate he was, about how he had a part-time job, confirming all of the things that might’ve seemed to good to be true.

Eventually, the inevitable question came up. “Are you seeing anyone, dear?” his mother asked innocently.

Bert tried to think quickly. He could’ve told the truth or he could’ve just said ‘no, I’m not seeing anyone’. Lying would’ve been way more convenient.

“Yeah.” He didn’t know if he had told the truth to ‘do the right thing’ or just because he was afraid they would’ve found out anyway. Probably the latter, but he didn’t think much about it.

“Who?” his mother smiled again, just a hint of nervousness making her lips twitch.

“His name is Gerard.”

His father slammed his hands on the table, making everyone jump. He said his deadname in a tone full of anger, disappointment, and frustration. “Can’t you just make up your mind?”

“About what?”

“First you wanna be a man. Then you go out with a man while you want to be a man, it doesn’t make sense! I don’t know what game you’re playing, miss-”

“Shut up!” Bert screamed. “Shut up, oh my God.”

“Hey!” his mother warned him. “Sweetie, don’t say Our Father’s name in vain.”

“You know what? Fuck off. Fuck all of you” Bert stood up and backed towards his room. “Enjoy the dinner with Quinn, I know you like him so much anyway. Adopt him, I don’t even care.”

“Bert…” Quinn tried to reason with him.

“It’s not your fault you’re so good. Just enjoy your dinner and make them leave” he said as he entered his room and locked himself in.

He heard a few knocks on the door, probably from Quinn, and then the voices of the three people he’d left out in the living room probably talking about him.

His father sounded angry, his mother worried, Quinn seemed to be attempting to contain the damage. What an angel.

Bert sat on the bed and let his gaze wander around the room. Sleeping pills. Alcohol. His pillow. He punched the pillow. It wasn’t as satisfying as he wished.

So many thoughts filled his head, running so fast that trying to understand them was like trying to catch raindrops one by one in his bare hands during a storm. He caught a glimpse of Gerard’s empty eyes, again. Fighting with his parents. Fear. Fear. Fear.

It all overlapped with each other, creating an unbearable buzzing, like static noise, that made his head feel like it was about to burst.

He wanted it to stop. He wanted a pause button for real life.

He took the sleeping pills in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. He considered for five long minutes taking a lot of both and waiting for what would happen next. He didn’t think about the consequences or anything, he just kept replaying in his head the thought of himself swallowing both and falling asleep, swallowing both and falling asleep, swallowing both and falling asleep, from different visual angles, but always with the same outcome. 

Eventually he shook his head and decided to take one mg of Lorazepam, only drinking water with it.

As he waited for it to take effect he tried to calm himself down, without much luck. He could still hear his parents arguing so he imagined it would’ve lasted a long time. 

He sent Gerard a long message about the situation, probably a very messy one, but still a message, grabbed his coat, and ran out of the house without looking at either his parents or Quinn in the face.

He dashed down the staircase and, once he got out, he ran uphill, knowing that they would’ve looked for him in the opposite direction, if they had ever looked. He knew that Quinn would’ve gotten worried and that his parents would’ve gotten angry, but he didn’t care. He had to leave. He had to stay away. Drown out the noise. Too much noise forced him to clutch his head in his hands.

He ran until his lungs ached, forcing him to slow down and look around himself. He was in a street that looked incredibly empty, probably because of how short the houses were. It still wasn’t exactly the classic suburban neighborhood, as they all had tall fences around their lawns. He looked at his phone and found a message from Gerard, telling him to talk to him about it and be careful, and three missed calls from Quinn. He sprinted towards a tall house which seemed to have a small path that went around it. It was hard to see without glasses and in the dark.

His theory was correct, so he walked behind the house into some unkept bushes, and then he found himself climbing upwards, surrounded by trees.

He turned on the flashlight on his phone.

It all felt so fake.

People didn’t do that in real life.

This was a dream. 

A movie.

A stupid cheesy fan fiction of something.

He had to move. He felt compelled to walk into the woods like it was the only right thing to do, like eating when you’re hungry or going to sleep when you’re tired.

He kept walking, watching his breath form beautiful clouds lit up by the flashlight. He eventually found a small clearing and dropped to his knees. He wasn’t cold. In fact, he was sweating. He also had to stop the noise from coming back.

He sent Gerard his position, just to try and not make him worry too much, and he got up to his feet, looking at the lights of the city. It was breathtaking.

He let out a scream but he was disappointed at how little it helped. He then started singing.

“All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here, in my arms.”

He started sobbing without tears. 

“Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm.”

He was such a cliché. It was weird, he had never felt like a cliché before that moment, but right there he felt so ridiculous that it suddenly didn’t feel like he was ‘out of the box’ anymore, he was just the weird fake deep kid. He had found his box.

He sang more and more songs, occasionally spreading his arms in a Jesus-like pose, until eventually he heard steps coming from behind his back.

He turned around with a sharp movement and the light of his flashlight revealed a very concerned Gerard standing above him, wrapped in a fluffy coat and a striped scarf.

“I’m okay” Bert immediately said.

Gerard looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“I let it out. Look at the lights of the city.” He couldn’t really see them himself because he didn’t have his glasses on, but the landscape seemed gorgeous either way. He took Gerard’s hand in his own. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Gerard looked like he was trying to let himself go even though they were all alone in the middle of the night surrounded by trees and nothing else.

Bert squeezed his hand and pointed the flashlight of his phone towards his own smiling face. He was so tired that even just that was exhausting, but he managed to pull it off to try and make Gerard feel safe.

The older boy eventually seemed to ease up and looked at the lights as well.

“You’re right, they’re pretty.”

Bert grinned.

“You’re prettier, though” Gerard looked at Bert with a dumb smile on his face, which didn’t last long. “Is it okay if I say you’re pretty? I mean it like in a man way, I also know a lot of cis dudes who are pretty, like Frank is pretty, ‘cause he’s a twink-”

“Gerard” Bert interrupted him.

The older boy shut his mouth and looked at him, impatiently.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, dude.”

Gerard let out a sigh of relief and inched a little closer to the other boy. 

Bert felt ecstatic. The only things that existed were Gerard, himself, and the clearing they were standing in. The city was a mere background to the universe, which ended where the second row of trees began. 

Gerard put an arm around his shoulders and held him close, probably because he thought he was cold. He wasn’t, but he appreciated the thought and, most importantly, having Gerard around him.

Everything was perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to end the story here because it feels like a nice conclusion. I can’t continue it from here as I’ve changed too much since I started it and it would cause me too much pain to write about how I was before I started therapy. I’m far from okay but I’m way better than I was and I’m not gonna ruin what I’ve accomplished just for “art”. With that said, I might turn this into a series where I’ll write about Bert and Gerard in this universe (spoiler alert: nothing terrible happens). Peace!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Comments, as always, are very appreciated!  
> Also, the next chapters might contain triggering content, but they will be listed in the beginning notes.


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